


Revelations

by Seventeenthcircleofhell



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller Are Best Friends, Alec Hardy and His Broken Heart, Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Love Confessions, Other, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, They're getting there, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventeenthcircleofhell/pseuds/Seventeenthcircleofhell
Summary: "You're in love with my mum, aren't you?"Alec almost crashes the car at Tom's question.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy & Tom Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 84
Kudos: 492





	1. The Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLostGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLostGoose/gifts).



> My dear wonderful Goose, Merry Christmas from your secret santa.

“You’re in love with my mum, aren’t you?”

Alec almost crashes the car at Tom’s question, which feels more like a statement than genuine wonder. He realises he’s swerved into the wrong side of the road at the loud peep of a horn, and hastily pulls over at the first turn-in he sees. Ellie wouldn’t be pleased to hear he’d gotten her son killed.

Then again, it'd get him out of pick-up duty in the future, a task he’s definitely regretting agreeing to after the bombshell Tom has just dropped on him after picking him up from football.

He knows he’d never say no to her though. He likes being needed by her, in any capacity. He’ll help her in any way he can.

“What’re ya talking about lad?”

Denial is his first defence.

“You’re in love with my mum.” Tom turns to face him directly, a challenge in his eyes that Alec instantly recognises from staring Ellie down during their many arguments. Instinctively, he knows Tom isn’t going to back down. They have the same eyes. He knows that look too well.

“What on earth makes you say that?” Alec throws out, knowing it sounds as weak as he feels in this moment, under the scrutinising gaze of Ellie’s son with her eyes and chin and fire.

(And his father’s nose.

He tries not to think too hard about that.)

“C’mon Alec, It’s obvious. I’d be surprised if _Fred_ didn’t know. Why else would you be picking me up from football on a Saturday afternoon, when you probably have better things to be doing?” the absolute certainty he states his evidence with almost makes Alec laugh. Tom’s bright, wide eyes staring at him with a look of such defiance, without a single shred of doubt, leaves him grasping for words that are far out of his reach.

_Knack for solving mysteries. Must be genetic._

Alec suddenly feels very tired, and demonstrates as such with a pinch to the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. Tom clearly takes this as an admission.

“So I’m right.” Alec knows he isn’t asking.

“Maybe I'm picking you up because your mum and I are friends, and we help each other out?” he says with a sigh, opening his eyes and fighting with his hands to stay put on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, but there’s favours, and there’s going so far out of your way to lend a hand you’re practically bending over backwards.” Tom is clearly proud of himself for his detective work, and Alec knows any excuse or justification he could throw at him won’t stick.

He sighs again, resigned to his fate.

“Fine.”

“So I _am_ right.” Tom says, not even a hint of surprise colouring his tone.

Alec knows there’s no way out, and decides to face the music instead of running. He’s so tired of running.

“Okay. Fine. You're right. Why d'ya feel the need to point this out now?” He can’t help the defensiveness creeping into his voice, and immediately feels guilty for having an attitude with the boy. Tom, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice, and is completely undeterred by Alec’s annoyance.

“Do you not hear yourself? The way you talk about her isn’t the way you would talk about a- a _work_ friend, or a normal friend, _or_ a best friend. And plus, whenever I mention her you get that stupid love-sick look on your face.” Tom loosely gestures a hand in his direction, his tone shifting into the typical teenager ‘ _Love? Gross_ ’ territory, and a small part of him sighs in relief.

He’s furious at himself for being so obvious though.

Alec turns back to look straight out the front window, not daring to look back at Tom now the secret is out. Panic is starting to blossom in his chest, swelling by the second at the idea of everyone knowing, being able to read him so easily when he’d been trying so hard to keep it beneath the surface, never to see the light of day.

He can feel himself spiralling, and is grateful for Tom’s next question, even though he cannot fathom how to begin to answer it.

“When?”

It’s a simple question, after all. It should have a simple answer.

This is far from the case.

He takes a deep breath, and he wills himself to look Tom in the eye as he delivers what he knows will be a stinging blow.

“I realised I was in love with your mother when I told her about your father.”

The look on Tom’s face is one he can tell will be burned into the back of his eyelids for a long time, and the guilt that permanently sits heavy on his chest suddenly triples in weight. He can’t force himself to look away.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry kid.”

Tom looks at him then, really _looks_ at him, a question burning in his eyes that he is having trouble voicing. Alec looks away, granting him as much privacy as possible while he pulls his thoughts together.

“What happened?” his voice is weak, and something in Alec's chest breaks open.

That’s not what he expected to hear.

“I don’t think you want to know, Tom.” Alec does not want to tell him the story of how his mother reacted to his father being a murderer, and a paedophile on top of that.

“Yes, I do.” Tom's voice has hardened, and he turns to properly face Alec, not backing down. “Tell me how you knew you love her.”

Sensing no way out, Alec takes a deep breath, scrubs his hands over his face, and steels himself for this conversation.

He owes that to the boy at the very least.

“Your mother and I didn’t...” he grasps for a way to phrase it “...get on very well, in the beginning”

He’s cut off by a snort from Tom, and turns an offended glare in his direction.

“I know. Mum used to come home ranting about how much of an arsehole you were” Tom says, trying his best to repress a giggle. Alec had assumed Ellie would have done as such, but it still hurts a little to hear. Tom must be able to sense this, in that intuitive way kids have a strange ability for, and hastily switches tracks. “Less so as the days went on. She actually had some nice things to say about you. I think you coming 'round for dinner helped.” He offers Alec a reassuring smile, and his heart blooms for the boy just a little bit.

“I'm glad to hear it lad. Anyway, I’m a bit of a wanker according to your mum, and she’s a very strong woman. Doesn’t back down from a fight, your mum.” He’s aware his face is moulding into some wistful expression, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. “So we clashed quite a bit, but I always found myself wanting to keep up an argument. It was like sparing, she really keeps me on my toes.”

Tom hasn’t looked away from him since he first began his monologue, his eyes boring into him with an intense focus that makes Alec sweat a little nervously. This is her _son_ he’s telling this story to. He’s starting to feel the pressure.

“For a long time I didn’t recognise how I felt about her. It was nothing even close to how I felt about my ex-wife before we started dating. I never liked to argue with her, I was a huge pushover for her, and back then I was a lot less of a grumpy arsehole.”

He remembers quite clearly how he felt about Tess. How, looking back, it was never as _burning_ as how he feels for Ellie. His heart didn’t ache at the sight of her. He didn’t feel any thrill while sniping with her. He didn’t feel any static when he touched her.

He was undoubtedly absolutely head over heels for Tess. But she never loved him in the way he needed her to, and eventually it fell apart.

After the fallout, he wasn’t sure he was even capable of love anymore. Not until Ellie.

Tom coughs suddenly, and the sound jerks Alec out of his reverie. He realises he’s stopped speaking and has instead been staring off out the front window with his mouth twisted into a frown and a furrow in his brow.

He can’t help letting his mind wander. He does that far too much where she’s concerned, these days.

“As I was saying, I never really recognised how I felt about her. She was just _Millahr from work_ back then. Always a little spitfire, but a thorn in my side half the time.” He considers how this sounds out loud, and quickly tacks on – “in a good way, of course”- for Tom’s benefit.

Looking at Tom however, it’s apparent he didn’t need the clarification. He’s giving Alec a small, knowing smile, and it reminds him so much of Ellie for a second that he’s suddenly feeling a little winded.

“As you said though, as time went on we got a little more co-operative with each other. And _then_ -“ Alec is slightly embarrassed by this particular part of the recount, but it feels necessary to include- “this guy from work, Brian he’s called, asked your mum out for a drink. She said no, obviously, what with her being married and all- which _he knew_ , by the way-“ he becomes aware his voice is rising a few octaves from the slightly alarmed look on Tom’s face, and has to physically squash down whatever it is that’s swelling in his chest that’s getting him so worked up.

(He knows it’s because of Dave.

Tess probably pursued him first in reality.

Still, it doesn’t help quell the anger)

Alec coughs awkwardly, and continues at a normal speaking level.

“Yeah- so- um- _anyway_ \- she said no, and the first thing she did was come into my office to tell me about it. We were _gossiping_ , if you can believe it. I made her laugh that day. I think it was the first time...” His voice has drifted from righteous anger to a dreamy lilt, and he glances back at Tom to see his bewildered expression.

“What?” Alec asks, slightly defensive.

“Your mood swings give me whiplash.” Tom says plainly, and Alec is so thrown by the cheek of him that all he can do in response is gape, mouth open, lost for words.

Tom cracks him a mischievous smile, and nods his head for Alec to continue.

“After she left my office for the night, I think that was my first clue that there was _something_ there even though I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it.”

Tom is nodding thoughtfully, and for the first time Alec wonders how much of this he genuinely understands. Tom definitely isn’t stupid, but love is a different domain to intelligence. Maybe Tom will get it, and maybe he won’t. Either way, Alec hopes he’ll give him the benefit of the doubt when he hears the parts that he can’t re-tell with a rose tint.

He resists the urge to sigh, realising he can’t avoid talk of the arrest any longer.

He takes a deep breath, lets a long pause sit in the air between them, and doesn’t let himself sugarcoat it from hereon out.

“I figured out it was Joe who killed Danny in the interview I had with the two of you.” he says in one breath, and lets the words land on Tom like a blow in a boxing ring. His face makes Alec feel like he’s hit him, and in return feels a sting in his own chest that is very familiar.

 _Guilt_.

He’s glad he chose to use his name instead of ' _your_ _dad_ '. He's hurt Tom enough today.

“I remember that interview.” Tom says in a breath just above a whisper, and all at once Alec is hit with the memories from that interview.

_“Are you lying to me?”_

_“Why did you smash your computer?”_

_“Did you kill Danny, Tom_?”

Neither of them can meet the other’s eye, and the silence in the car is radiating with tension, a balloon about to pop. Alec has no idea how to break this silence, and isn’t sure if it’s safe for him to do so.

Tentatively, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, Alec turns all the way around in the seat to face Tom properly, not sure what he’s about to say but knowing it’s going to be important.

“Look... kid- that interview- it was, well, _I_ was- harsh.” The words taste sour in his mouth, and Alec can feel himself cringing at the memories that flash quickly behind his eyes.

_Staring at Tom’s face, his eyes wide and scared, the emails he’s just read out lingering in the air like a bad smell. Alec knows Tom isn’t guilty. This small boy with his head hung between his shoulders, eyes red-rimmed, trembling lightly. A kid. Miller’s kid._

_Except he’s Joe’s kid too._

_Joe, whose name is the only other on the email print out._

_Whose shoe size match the footprints by the hut._

Staring Tom in the face over four years later, Alec can’t help but notice how much he’s grown. Not just in his face, or his height, or his voice, but age. He’s staring at a boy whose had to be so much older than he is. A kid who was never really a kid, because he had that robbed from him the day his father was arrested. He’s been alive for fifteen years, but he’s had to live like it’s been thirty. Alec’s chest is aching in a way it hasn’t since the pacemaker surgery, and he subconsciously rubs at it, an old habit he’d never quite been able to kick, as he brings himself back to the present. Tom is waiting for him to continue, the silence having dragged on for far too long since he last spoke.

“I- um, well, Tom- I’m sorry. For what I said. For how I said it. I know you were a suspect, but that was- that was _cruel_.” His voice is beginning to waver. He breathes in sharply, and forces himself to keep eye contact, to not let the lump growing in his throat suffocate him.

“It’s okay Alec,” Tom sounds calm, and Alec looks at him in askance. “You were just doing your job.”

Something in Alec’s chest tightens further, and it’s almost unbearable.

“Don’t say that” he chokes out, and Tom looks perplexed, and slightly alarmed at the break in Alec’s voice. “Don’t let me off. Shout at me- blame me, _please_ \- you can’t let me get away with that-" Tears are threatening to spill, and for the first time Tom realises how much guilt he’s been carrying around for that all these years.

“Seriously Alec, I’m _okay_ , it’s alright, I’ve let it go.” Tom is desperately trying to keep his voice measured while he reassures him. He’s never seen this much emotion from Alec before, more used to the grumpy arse with a gruff sense of humour buried beneath. He’s _aware_ of the Alec underneath, the Alec who has panic attacks and had a deadly heart condition and the hate of the nation stacked against him before he came to Broadchurch. He _knows_ all of that, but knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.

Alec is breathing heavily, forcing an evenness into each inhale that seems practiced and familiar. He seems to be pulling himself together somewhat, and Tom is selfishly grateful. The helpless feeling in his chest starts to melt away, and he turns to look out the window while Alec tries (and fails) to discreetly wipe his eyes.

“Sorry about that. Let’s pretend that didn’t happen, aye lad?” Alec attempts a weak laugh, and it comes out slightly strangled. He clears his throat, and turns back towards Tom to finish this impossibly long conversation.

Tom turns to face Alec once again, nods in acquiescence, and tries to get back to the original topic at hand.

“So how did you tell mum? That dad- uh- that he was guilty?” Tom hates to ask, but the curiosity is burning him up from the inside. He feels like he’s swallowed a match, and can’t go another minute without extinguishing it.

Alec has been dreading this part, but he’s gotten this far. No backing out now.

“Telling your mum was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do” Alec begins slowly. “Maybe this is selfish of me, but how your mum would feel, how shattered she’d be, weighed so much heavier on my mind than how I’d have to tell the Latimer’s. Which, looking back, should’ve told me all I needed to know how I felt about her.” He chuckles darkly, and shakes his head at himself, strangely cynical. “But alas, hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

Tom has barely blinked, and is looking at Alec with such childlike vulnerability that he once again feels as if he’s talking to the eleven year old boy he met in that interview room.

“I brought her into the interrogation room. I’d already spoken to Joe next door. He’d confessed, told me the whole story. There wasn’t a doubt it was him. I had to interview her- well, ‘interview’”- he does quote marks in the air- “as if she were a witness. She was really confused the entire time, and I just kept thinking _it’s clicked it’s clicked she knows_ , but I think she wasn’t going to let herself accept it.” Alec scrubs a hand over his face, and resists the urge to rub his chest again. He’s never had to tell this story, and it’s a lot more emotionally taxing than he expected.

“Eventually I turned off the recorder, and moved ‘round the other side of the table. She was _really_ confused about that, since that sort of means it’s not an official interview anymore.” He hesitates now, wondering how Ellie would feel about him revealing all this to her son, but he’s here now.

And a small part of him he’s been trying to keep buried for the last four years needs to be set free.

“So I- um- I told her it was Joe. And she- uh- her face- I’ll never forget the look on her face. It’s not something I _could_ forget, I don’t think. I’ve had a lot of nightmares involving that look.”

Tom seems incredibly surprised Alec revealed that titbit of something so personal, and Alec reckons his face reflects the same shock Tom’s does. He doesn’t know when he let his guard down so much, but the sudden feeling of being exposed prickles at his skin, and he barrels on in an attempt to ignore it.

“She wouldn’t believe me at first. Just- wouldn’t accept it. ‘You’re wrong’ she said to me. She was on the floor, almost threw up when I told her. I think she knew as soon as I started asking questions but- well, you don’t want to believe that someone you thought you knew so well could betray you like that.”

Alec can empathise pretty strongly with that feeling. Even when Tess told him directly to his face what she’d done- seeming more guilty about the lost pendant than she ever did about the affair- he didn’t want to believe her.

(And even then, part of him wasn’t even surprised.)

He realises he’s turned back out to face the front window, and looks around at Tom. He sees tears in the boy’s eyes, and he wishes he could stop there, with the rest of the story unfinished, to spare him any more pain.

“When your mum broke down, I felt like I broke with her. I felt like I was scraping up the pieces of my heart from the floor next to her.” He can feel tears prickling at his own eyes now. “More than anything, right then, I just wanted to fix it all for her. To just- just take all that pain away, feel it for myself instead. But I couldn’t. I’d delivered her the worst news of her life, and there wasn’t anything I could do to fix it.”

Alec thinks that was maybe the most heartbreaking part. There was no solution. He’d torn her life to pieces and had no way to put it back together.

“So it was in that moment, where I was trying to comfort her, that it just hit me- seeing her suffer like that, her pain was my pain, and I was just shattering right along side her knowing what this would do to her. And what it did end up doing-“ he has to cut himself off for a second, not knowing where to start here.

“Well, she had to leave. She lost all her friends, she couldn’t show her face at work, couldn’t show it around town-

“And she couldn’t see me either.” Tom cuts in, and Alec feels his whole body freeze over. Tom’s voice is smaller than he’s ever heard it.

“She was going through all that, and I wouldn’t even see her.” His voice has started to wobble, and a stray tear runs down his cheek. Alec hates himself more than ever for how this has affected Tom. Alec remembers how much Ellie was hurting because of that. He remembers how hurt he was by Daisy’s silence.

“Don’t waste time being angry with yourself for that, lad. You were hurting too. And you were a child, there’s no good way you could’ve handled it.” Alec won’t be able to erase Tom of his guilt, but the least he can do is show he understands.

Tom doesn’t look convinced, but there are no more tears threatening to fall, and Alec considers that progress.

“So-“ Alec clears his throat again, this time adjusting his tone into something less sombre, a little closer to his usual self- “That’s it, really. And now four years have gone by, and I’ve managed to keep it secret from her all that time, so if you could do me a favour and not let anything slip, that would be greatly appreciated.” He aims for another laugh, and is slightly more successful.

Tom however, is having non of it.

“I think you should tell her” he says strongly, and looks Alec dead in the face as he does.

“Absolutely not. I’ve caused her enough problems, I don’t fancy adding any more to that list.” Alec told him indignantly, huffing an exasperated breath.

He’s done enough damage, he refuses to do more.

“Well I’m just _saying_ , I think you should tell her. Because I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.” Tom turns back around to face the front, crossing his arms over his chest as he does so, punctuating his point.

Alec scoffs, a small sting of hurt rippling through him. He knows she could never feel the same way and he won't let Tom fool him into having _hope_ , of all ridiculous things.

Tom looks a little offended, and glares at Alec with that familiar flame back in his eye, not ready to back down.

“I _know_ she feels the same way, actually. She's _my_ mum, remember?” he says, teenage attitude coming through in his tone. “She talks about you all-“ he waves his hand in front of him, looking for the word- “ _sweet_ and stuff. She calls you a wanker with a smile these days. Very different to how she used to say it.”

Alec can't help a fond smile twist at his features. He really loves that woman.

“There! That!” Tom suddenly half-shouts, pointing wildly at his face “she does that sappy smile when she talks about you, or when _I_ talk about you. _Or_ when Fred calls you 'Uncle Awec'- that one always gets her. That's proof!” He's very excited about the evidence he's presented, while Alec is busy trying not to have another heart attack from the jumpscare.

He considers Tom’s words though, a small, warm sensation niggling in his chest. In a good way, this time.

“Even if she did feel the same way- and I'm not saying she does-“ Tom closes his mouth when Alec cuts in- “it wouldn't work. How would the rest of the town treat her for dating _the worst cop in Britain_? How would Beth take it, her being with the guy that arrested her husband to solve her son's murder? Who she was accused of having an affair with? Things really fell apart between those two, I don't want to ruin that again.” His voice has gone soft and sad, his eyes drifting back out the window in contemplation. To his left, Tom does the same.

“I know you might not want my advice” Tom starts slowly, “but I think, if you love someone, you have to let them decide if they want to love you back...”

Alec nods at Tom, beckoning for him to continue.

“Well who's to say anything bad would happen? How would you ever know if you never tell her? If you tell mum you love her, then _she_ can decide if she wants to risk all those things. She never has the power to do that if she never knows.”

Alec smiles at him then.

_Smart kid._

“And you’re not ' _the worst cop in Britain_ ' anymore. You never were.” Tom looks at him, unwavering in his conviction, and Alec struggles to squash down the urge to hug him. That'd _really_ freak him out.

“Plus” Alec adds, a new thought coming to mind as he gets himself back on track, “she has you to take care of, and wee Fred. She needs to do the best for you she can, and I'm not sure how that’d work with me in the picture.”

Tom gives Alec a look, one that reads with a fondness at the same time as saying _are you fucking kidding me?_ He gets that one from Ellie a lot.

“Are you being serious?” Tom asks, almost angrily, and it surprises Alec into stunned silence. “We’re sat in a car together on a Saturday afternoon after you’ve picked me up from football, so you can take me home and you can make us all dinner while mum is busy sorting Fred out, and you think being in our lives wouldn’t _work_?”

Oh.

“So you- uh- you like having me around?” Alec coughs out awkwardly.

“Well- uh- yeah, I mean, it's nice having someone else around, you know? Someone I can actually talk to.” Tom says back, just as awkwardly now that his own feelings are being discussed. “With dad- he's not around anymore, and Fred is so young and mum is my _mum_. It's- uh- good, to have you around. Um. Yeah. Plus it makes mum happy, which is good. It's nice to see her happy.” He tacks the last part on quickly, clearly trying to shift the focus away from himself, but Alec can't help being a little blown away by Tom’s admission.

“So _if_ I were to tell your mum, and _if_ she felt the same way, you'd be alright with that?”

Tom offers him a warm, slightly shy smile. Alec’s heart melts.

“Yeah, I would.”


	2. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec decides to tell Ellie how he feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Long time no see.
> 
> When I first wrote this over seven months ago (time flies huh), I always intended for it to be a one-shot. But the amount of comments I've received asking for a part two, as well as all the other lovely comments just saying you enjoyed it, has changed my mind. I'm also procrastinating, and decided I'd rather do this than my actual assigned work.
> 
> 2020, quite frankly, has been terrible. I think we can all agree. So to anyone else who has had one of the worst years of their life, or is simply having a bad day, I hope this helps as much as all your kudos & comments have helped me. Anyone who has read any of my work and enjoyed it, I am so grateful. Thank you all so much, and I hope this lives up to your expectations.

Standing in the Miller’s living room, looking Ellie bare in the face while gearing himself up to make a confession, only results in him losing his nerve.

The Conversation with Tom (capital C included) had been playing on a loop in his head for the last three weeks. Since that fateful Saturday which featured far too many tears, he had decided to stop being a coward. After all, if he were to have any hope that Ellie returned his feelings, word from her eldest son was probably his best bet at a confirmation that wouldn’t result in him floating lost in her living room with a hole in the side of his ship and no anchor to shore.

Yet here he was, after a helping Ellie with the dishes post-dinner that he had helped cook, standing in the doorway like a soldier in no-mans-land, as if he hasn’t been here three times this week already. Every day so far they sat in the evening, they shared a bottle of wine, a detective show played on the TV that they’d solve within the first ten minutes, and let the remaining fifty turn into white noise. They’re on episode four, and Ellie is looking at him with a suspicious gaze, curious as to why he’s lingering in the doorway when she’s already snug on the couch, episode queued to play, wine glass in hand.

And _of course_ she’s suspicious. She’s a damn good detective, and he’s having a hard time behaving like a human when he knows what he’s waiting to say.

The boys usually stuck around until Alec and Ellie had spoiled the mystery, before they’d take their leave and head upstairs to retire for the evening. One significant glance in Tom’s direction however, and he had been dragging Fred to his room with the promise of video games before bed to give Alec space to say his piece.

They hadn’t talked about it since that car ride, but a bond had been formed that day, built on the foundations of what already lingered, the desperate need to lean on someone other than those they had already hurt. Something hung in the air between them from then on, something that couldn’t be put into words, but made sense only to them. Something, maybe, like father and son.

With his brain rebooting in the background, he drifts towards the sofa, taking the proffered glass of wine from Ellie's hand. He gives her a smile he hopes is convincing and folds himself into the cushion beside her. She offers him a quizzical look, something between confused and fond, and Alec feels a low pang in his chest.

“Right, Ellie, press play” he says in his usual gruff tone, hoping to distract from his odd behaviour. Ellie lets her gaze burn through him for a few extra seconds before turning her attention back to the TV. Alec breathes an internal sigh of relief.

The night passes by in its usual fashion. They subconsciously move closer to each other on the sofa, forces pulling them together with neither consent nor complaint. The episode unfolds on par with their routine, the mystery obvious, and instead plays in the background of their idle chatter and comfortable silences.

As the show hits the halfway mark, Alec finds himself staring at Ellie without reason. He simply wants to watch the light from the screen as it paints shadows over her face, each flicker highlighting her soft skin, the accents of her bone structure, glinting in her eyes. She looks incongruously regal and soft all at once, poised without posture, still a powerhouse in her own home.

And _God_ , she’s beautiful.

There is no bloody way he can go through with this.

\-----

The episode carries on without interruption apart from the occasional soft laugh or _hmph_ from Ellie when something unrealistic happens, and a mumbled ' _that would get them sacked'_ when basic protocol is ignored. Alec finds it endlessly endearing.

In the final few minutes, Alec realises it’s almost time for him to leave. They eat dinner, they watch an episode, they say their goodbyes. This is how the routine goes. He feels the disappointment wash over him in a powerful wave, not wanting to go. The idea of walking out her front door with a flippant ‘ _see you tomorrow, Millahr_ ’ tossed over his shoulder, only to return to his lonely little shack, devastates him more than usual.

He knows what he has to do to drag out his stay. He decides to bite the bullet.

_Deep breaths._

“I had an interesting conversation with Tom the other week…” he begins tentatively.

“Oh yeah?” She says, still absorbed in the program. He sees her shoot him a quick glace from his peripherals before she turns her attention back to the screen.

“Um. Yeah. On the, uh, the Saturday, when I picked him up from football.” he forces out between coughs, still staring resolutely at the telly. He doesn’t dare face her.

“Are ya gonna tell me what it was about, or…?” he can hear the smile in her voice despite her frustrated tone. It does nothing to calm the speeding staccato of his heart.

_Deep breaths._

“We had a chat about us, actually. You and me.”

“Oh?” She says again, this time with her curiosity peaked as she full-body turns away from the TV to face him. He chances a look back at her to see her legs still tucked under herself and her wine glass still held casually between her fingers. The epitome of relaxed. Comfortable in his presence.

A knot loosens in his chest, allowing him to breathe just a little easier.

“He made a rather astute observation…” he says slowly, Ellie’s face clouding with confusion. “He’ll be a detective, that one, really takes after his mum.” The comment has the desired effect as he watches a soft smile overtake her features, eyes glinting with something mischievous. His blood feels hot in his veins.

“And what was this _brilliant_ observation that was made by my brilliant son?” she asks cheekily, her eyes bright with a mix of mirth and pride.

And Alec forgets how to speak.

He opens his mouth, and nothing but dust comes out. Cobwebs have glued his tongue in place, clogging his throat. He takes a large swig from his wine glass to compensate, and instead inhales it down the wrong pipe. Ellie looks at him with poorly hidden concern while he tries not to suffocate on Tesco’s finest chardonnay, not quite sure what she’s supposed to do to help him.

“You alright?” she asks, a little belatedly, now looking wary as well as concerned.

“Yep- yeah- fine, I’m fine” he sputters, waving a hand in what he hopes is a casual gesture, “mouth’s a little dry ‘s all.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but just stares at him instead of saying so, waiting for him to continue. When he says nothing, she gives him the eye roll he sees almost every day at work.

“Spit it out then!” she exclaims at him, all sense of worry replaced with the usual lack of patience she has for his behaviour. The normalcy of it startles him back into gear, and he steels himself.

“He – uh- he said that he’d noticed that I- uh-”

_Deep breathes_

“He said he knows I’m in love with you.”

The silence that follows feels physical. The tension becomes a third person on the room.

The sound of a clock ticking reverberates loudly. Neither of them move.

 _This was a mistake_ , he realises suddenly. This was a huge mistake. He should never have said anything. He should never have listened to Tom. He’s pulled the pin on a grenade and just thrown it into the air with no regard for what will happen when it hits the ground.

The silence drags on as Alec continues to spiral.

 _C’mon Ellie_ , he prays to himself, _say something. Say anything. Nothing could make this worse._

And suddenly, Ellie bursts out laughing.

He was wrong. This is much worse.

“Oh my _God_ ” Ellie chokes out, cackling uproariously “Tom has said a lot of odd things over the years, but that really takes the cake.” She’s laughing so hard tears form in her eyes, and Alec looks on helplessly as she swipes one away with her thumb.

_This was a mistake._

“What’s so funny about that?” he asks hoarsely, his voice small, unable to look up from where his hands are twisting into knots in his lap. Ellie gives him a strange look at that, her body still shaking as she attempts to tamp down her hysterics.

“What d’you mean ‘ _what’s so funny_ ’?” she says, mimicking his tone slightly, “you being in love with me? Where on earth did he get such an absurd idea?”

She’s staring at him incredulously, as if he’s missed a glaringly obvious joke that is apparently very funny. He doesn’t laugh. He can’t, not when feels like he’s back in that river, being pulled under freezing water by an incessant currant. Shame, cold and tender, winds its fingers up his throat. His lungs don’t seem to be working anymore.

The silence creeps back up on them, and Alec vaguely registers the blank screen of the television. He doesn’t know when the episode ended, but the awareness of the lack of background noise is suddenly suffocating. He should’ve just left as per their routine. Even his cold and empty cabin is preferable to being in this room right now.

The clock ticks.

“I should go.” he announces after what feels like eons, not quite speaking in Ellie’s direction and instead to the room at large. He shifts to stand, body feeling like he’s wading through molasses to get himself to move, when he feels warm fingers clamp softly around his wrist. He stares at her hand, the skin under her touch burning, before looking up at her imploring gaze.

“Alec,” she breathes out, worry aching in her voice, “what’s going on?”

He lets out a long breath, scrubs his free hand over his face, and sinks back down into the cushions.

“Maybe,” what on earth is he supposed to say? “it’s not such an absurd idea?” He lets the question hang in the air, open and exposed. She doesn’t respond, she just continues to gape at him. He looks away, unable to keep holding her stare, eyes shifting down to where her hand is still loosely encircling his wrist, as if afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go.

He feels as if he might. She is all that keeps him grounded, her touch tethering him to earth. Without her, he just might float away.

He keeps his eyes trained on his wrist as she pulls her hand away.

“Explain.”

His head snaps up back to her face. Still confused, still worried, but still just Ellie.

He thinks back to The Conversation with Tom, the details her shared with him that Ellie probably needs to know that he definitely doesn’t want to tell her. The last thing he wants is to add memories of Joe to stoke what is already a barely contained bonfire of a situation.

“When me met…you were a pain in my arse.”

“Oh, cheers Alec, great start” Ellie huffs, never too ruffled to have her usual attitude with him. He feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards ever so slightly.

“Well it’s true, I’m afraid. And I imagine you had much worse to say about me at the time.” he gives her a knowing look, and she at least has the good grace to look a little sheepish. “Tom found it very amusing, by the way.”

“Good boy.”

“Anyway, we met, we annoyed the shit out of each other, did a lot of arguing,” Ellie is nodding along with him, no doubt remembering just how much he annoyed the shit out of her. “But part of me always just…loved it. Arguing with you. It was like caffeine, just kept me awake having you around.” He hesitates, not knowing just how much vulnerability he wants to let slip.

Until he remembers he’s mid-love confession. May as well go all in.

“You made me feel more alive than I had in a very long time.”

Her face practically melts, and he’s clearly pulled a heartstring, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“So the case went on, life went on. We worked, we bickered, and round and round we went. But we’d somewhat warmed up to each other further into the case. Or so I like to think.” He looks at her for confirmation, which she gives him in the form of a simple nod. It evaporates an anxiousness he hadn’t realised he was harbouring. The idea that she’d still hated him while he was falling in love with her pains him very deeply for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint. “I even sort of looked forward to going to work to get to see you.” She cocks an eyebrow at him, and he knows exactly what she’s saying without saying it. “Well, as much as one can look forward to a, uh, murder investigation.” He tacks on, rather lamely. “I wouldn’t let myself think about that- you- too much, but it was true.”

Ellie is looking at him with piercing eyes. It’s like she’s peeling his skin away, flaying him out, wide open, so honest for her to see. He’s being examined, he realises, and it unnerves him. She is suddenly unreadable as she studies him. He doesn’t know what to do with that after knowing her for so long. She has always been an open book for him, even in the beginning. Now all the words are in a language he doesn’t understand. He is not used to not knowing when it comes to Ellie. Her expression and body language gives away nothing to how this conversation is going over with her. He wonders if he should be preparing to be tossed out on his arse.

He dismisses the thought quickly.

Ellie may not love him, but she is not cruel.

“So what- you were being a wanker at work because you _fancied_ me?” she says, her words dripping with thinly veiled annoyance. “Would it not have been easier to just pull my hair and run away?”

He can feel the embarrassed blush travel up his neck, staining his skin as it goes. Ellie must notice, as she lets out a laugh that cracks through the indignant twist of her lips. It makes the rosy pink of his cheeks flush to scarlet, which in turn makes Ellie laugh harder.

“Getting shy are we now, Hardy?” The teasing lilt in her voice sets something alight in his gut.

“Shut up Millahr” he grumbles, and her smile widens a fraction before she sobers herself.

The humour dissipates from the room as he slouches further into the sofa, mood suddenly sombre. He remembers how it felt telling Tom this part, the tears they both spilled but will vehemently deny if asked. He doubts telling Ellie will be any easier.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he tells her plainly. “and you’re not gonna like hearing it.”

“Well now you have to tell me. C’mon Alec, don’t leave me to stew in it.”

“I realised I’m in love with you-” he hears her breath hitch in her throat, and he knows this is it. This is the moment when the grenade lands.

“-in the interview. When I told you Joe had been arrested.”

The looks on her face is so eerily similar to Tom’s, but is pronounced differently than it had been on his boyish features. The lines earned from decades of laughter all fold in on themselves with grief. The corners of her eyes, usually crinkled with mirth, are pinched with pain. Her face is stained with despair, and he feels his heart shatter in his chest. And just like with Tom, he knows this look will forever be tattooed to the inside of his eyelids, swimming in his mind’s eye as he tries to sleep every night from now on.

And then they are just staring at each other. The air has been sucked out of the room. They exist within a vacuum now, waiting to see who will be the first to choke.

Alec is expecting tears. Expecting to watch her face crumble, to hear a whimper break into a sob.

“The worst moment of my life, Alec?” she asks calmly, but her eyes are blazing. Her tone is a taut wire ready to snap, ready to leave lacerations, ready to shred him to pieces.

He wasn’t expecting her to get angry.

“I know, I know it’s-“

“No, _actually_ , you don’t know.” she cuts in before he can finish, and the words lock themselves in this throat.

“Let me get this straight.” she begins slowly, as she starts to rise off the sofa. “You came to my town, you stole my job,” she grows taller with every word, her voice raising in tandem, “you were nothing but an arsehole for months because you had _feelings_ for me,” she’s looming over him now, bearing down on him, “and now you’re telling me you fell in love with me while I was dry-heaving on the police station floor because my husband killed my best friend’s son?”

She is poised and ready to strike, coiled with fury, fangs bared. Her breathing is heavy, chest heaving with self-restraint. Hesitation has snake-bit her serpent tongue, but she does not back away. He knows she’s waiting for an answer from him, but his mouth won’t move. He is nothing but prey now, trembling imperceptibly in the face of this predator. He’s waiting for her to rip his flesh into ribbons. He can tell she wants to. She wants to crack his bones, spill his marrow, spread his blood like a disease.

A small, shrivelled part of him, the part that knows he will never quite fulfil his penance, wants her to do it. Wants her to grip him at his seams and rip him down the centre in one clean move.

What a way to go, it must be, to have someone you love tear you apart.

“I fell in love with you every day we spent together, Ellie.” He says without fear, ready to face whatever retribution she feels he deserves once she has the whole truth. “It just took seeing you in so much pain to realise it.”

The clock ticks again.

As if reminded that time still exists even in this moment, Ellie deflates, all the fight draining from her. She goes down like a lead balloon, dropping back onto the sofa like a marionette getting its strings cut.

“This isn’t fair.” she whispers, and she sounds so defeated it breaks his heart all over again. “All these years, and you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you” he tells her honestly, pouring as much conviction into the words as he can muster. “You’d already been hurt so much. you didn’t need me adding to that.”

“Yet that didn’t stop you.” She sounds angry again, but Alec is confused.

“Didn’t stop me from what?”

“Hurting me.”

His body goes numb at the words.

“You left, Alec. All that time you loved me, and you still left.” Her voice is strained with the effort of keeping it steady, but a treacherous wobble can be heard. The shards of Alec’s shattered heart pierce into his lungs at the sound. “Not a call, not a text. In two _years_.” The measured tone is futile. The anguish is impossible to hide. “How could you do that?”

He hadn’t wanted to leave. He knew that as soon as they’d separated from their handshake, skin aching with the need to smother her in a hug. He didn’t think he could tamp down the impulse for much longer, and so he’d had to go. With Sandbrook solved, the plan was to return home to Daisy. After she had found out from the Broadchurch Echo article that her mother was the one having an affair, she’d been furious with both of them. Tess for her betrayal, himself for keeping secrets. Nevertheless, she had softened to him. He had plans with her, plans with both of them, to rebuild what they once had before life had gotten in the way. He’d go back to Sandbrook, he’d get a place near his daughter, maybe they’d even be a family again.

It took no more than a month for him to realise he was waiting around for a fantasy. He had foregone reality to fall love with his late-night delusions. Ricky had been right, there was nothing for him there anymore.

But still, he did not return to Broadchurch. He had whisked in like a whirlwind, had torn through the town and disrupted everything in his path. He had brought a dark cloud with him when he arrived, and he had let Ellie get caught in his storm. He couldn’t put her through that a second time.

He wants to tell her as such. Wants to tell her that wherever he goes, chaos follows. That she deserves peace, deserves _better_ than anything he could give her. He doesn’t know how to iron out his thoughts to tell her just how much better off she was when he wasn’t interrupting her life with murder cases and hospital visits.

“It was for your own good that way.”

It is the wrong thing to say.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hardy?!” she jumps to her feet in one quick motion, “You think you have any right to dictate what’s good for me?!”

“Christ Ellie, that’s not-”

“ _Two years_ I spent worrying about you. Not knowing where you were, how you were doing, couldn’t even do me the courtesy of a simple hello-“

He feels the numbness in his limbs dissipate as his body kicks back into gear, and he springs to his feet to stand in front of her. She no longer has the height advantage, but her presence still towers over him.

“I wanted to call-“ his voice is frantic with desperation, with the need to make her understand, “believe me Ellie, I thought about it every day, but it was better for you that you didn’t hear from me-”

“Oh, well if you _thought_ about it, that makes it okay.” The sarcasm drips off her tongue, spitting hot and venomous.

“You didn’t contact me either!”

“You were the one who left! Why would I call you when for all I knew, you wanted to leave me behind?”

They are well up in each other’s faces now, only a hair’s breadth apart, and he has to squash down the ridiculous impulse to tip her head back like a wine glass and drink the poison words from her lips.

“You could have been busy-”

“ _You could have been dead!_ ” she roars, and it knocks the wind right out of his chest.

Because _of course_. Because that was obvious. Because how could he have been so _blind_?

“Two years I spent waiting for your obituary to turn up in the papers. You only told me you were going for that bloody surgery and might not survive five minutes before you went under the knife. For all I knew, you’d left so you could disappear to some far-off town to curl up and die.” Her body sags with the weight of her words, all the energy draining away. “How could I bring myself to call you,” the tremble is back in her voice, her eyes shining and wet, “when I thought you might not be around to answer?”

And how stupid he had been, not to realise. Not to consider that by trying to protect her, he had done the same as every other important person in her life.

He’d let her down.

“Oh.” he says, because what else is there to be said?

“Yeah, ‘ _oh_ '” she huffs, and runs a frustrated hand through her hair. He follows the movement unblinkingly. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re why I came back.” He says in a rush of breath, suddenly overwhelmed with the importance of this information.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t let myself contact you. Told myself it was for the best. All I’d done from the moment we met was make your life difficult. But I couldn’t help myself. I spent every waking moment missing you, and every other moment seeing you in my dreams.” She sends him a surprised look at the confession.

“Dreaming about me? Nothing inappropriate I hope.” she says faux casual, and the attempt at humour sends a wave of relief through him so powerful his knees buckle. He huffs a strained laugh.

“The majority of them, no” and he rejoices in her startled eyebrow raise before he inevitably brings the mood back down. “Most of the time it was you in place of Pippa. I could never manage to pull you out of the river.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘ _oh_ ’” he parrots back to her, offering her a resigned smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He feels exhausted down to his bones.

“You still should’ve called me.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Ellie.” He tells her, his voice breaking over her name. “I promised myself I wouldn’t disturb your life this time, when I came back. Look how well that turned out.” He gestures between them, and her face hardens.

“You aren’t a disturbance, Alec.” She says resolutely, firm in her conviction. She must sense he’s about to disagree with her as she steamrolls over him. “You’ve got to cut this shit where you think it’s your duty to remove the burden of your existence from everyone’s life like you’re doing them a favour. Just because you were a knob doesn’t mean I wanted you gone.”

He feels tears stinging at his eyes that he doesn’t bother trying to hide. It would be useless to try under her x-ray gaze, looking straight through him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want a surprise love confession on a work night either.” He says it like a joke, but it predictably falls flat, his heart clearly not in the right state to laugh about the mess he’s made. “It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna go.”

“So that’s it? You tell me you love me and then you just piss off like nothing happened?”

He lets out a long-drawn sigh, and takes a step back, putting some much-needed space between them.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. But I can’t keep doing this. You know now, do with that information what you will.” He turns back to the doorway, preparing to grab his shoes on the way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow-”

A strong grip on his arm cuts him off as he is pulled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet at the force of it. He turns back around to face her, indignant look in place.

“What are you-”

She tugs him forward by the collar of his shirt and crashes their lips together before he can finish.

He is in shock for no more than two seconds before his hands jump instinctively to her waist. He feels her arms wind around his lean frame, hands coming to rest over his shoulder blades as they pull each other impossibly closer. The slide of her skin against his stubble sends a buzz dancing down his spine as her teeth graze maddeningly over his bottom lip.

It awakens something in him, stirs to life something long dormant and covered in dust, and suddenly he is _starving_. He is seized by the urge to make this deeper, to push himself so far into her space she swallows him whole. He is a collapsing star falling into her orbit, and it burns hot and electric through him. He swipes his tongue across her intruding teeth, pushing back against her, and the shiver it elicits from her fans the lick of flame in his veins as he grips crescent moon bruises into her waist.

Even now, this is a fight to be won, still trying to one-up each other. He bites her lip softly, and she retaliates by running a hand through his hair, balling it into a fist as she drags him closer still. He lets out what can only be described as an honest to God _whine_ , but he has no room to be embarrassed when he is busy penning a love letter with the tip of his tongue against her lips. All he can focus on is how she is winning, and what a pleasure it is to be defeated.

And they are moving, he realises, falling and falling into each other until her back slams against the wall. She kisses like she could make a fucking career out of it, and Alec knows that even with her pinned against him, he is never regaining the upper hand.

He wants to sink to his knees. Wants to pray at her alter as a symphony swells behind them. He has never been a religious man, but she is otherworldly in this moment, and she just might have given him something to believe in. He will follow her wherever she goes, a loyal disciple trailing behind her at the sway of her hips like one of Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the sound of a bell. He wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, choice is king, and if he could serve a monarchy it would be this one.

She is the first to pull away, and he groans low in his throat at the loss of her touch. They both struggle to catch their breath, chest’s heaving in time, almost touching as they pant softly, eyes never breaking contact.

“You are a daft bastard, Alec Hardy” Ellie says, breathless, and her eyes darken. He balks at the non-sequitur, but doesn’t dare break this spell. She traces tender shapes along his jaw as she goes to sweep back the hair that has fallen over his eyes.

He takes in her face, lips red and swollen, blush still visible through shadows dancing over them in the half-light. She glows under his palms as she drinks in his expression, and smiles something devastating.

“ _Of course_ I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat, or even be friends, come find me on Tumblr.  
> @Seventeenthcircleofhell. (Still don't know how to hyperlink).

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & Kudos always appreciated


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